The Wardens of Terra

Chapter 3: Are you kidding me?

"You've got to be f*****g kidding me!" Andrea Kristos was trapped.

She should never have come here! Stupid frigging binding spell drawn right in the middle floor! She twisted her body in an attempt to free herself of the heavy magic that kept her lying flat on the cold, unfinished plywood that acted as a floor covering for the entire attic in her recently deceased aunt's house.

The black leather-bound book she'd accidentally opened floated above her. The tome glowed a sickly yellow color as its pages flipped wildly in the supernatural breeze it'd summoned. f*****g malaka!

She cursed herself for the i***t she was. Walking into a strange Romani Caster's house! Relative or not, she should've cased out the place first!

The Romani people, such as Andrea and her family were proud to call themselves, were notoriously cautious and secretive. The house of her dead relative was certainly going to be protected from the likes of any stranger who'd dared to enter. Yes, this was her Aunt Renalda's home, but Andrea was a stranger, nonetheless.

The book groaned as it tried to draw in more power. "Oh, crap, this is bad," Andrea gasped as sizzling little zaps of energy licked along her skin. They were hot and malicious like a thousand little daggers. The power coming from the book was most assuredly designed to harm, but what the heck was it doing here, she wondered for the umpteenth time.

Five years away from home and the sweet little old lady who was her great-aunt had turned into some kind of Dark Caster? Heck no! She didn't believe it for a second. Something was going on though, and she had the welts to prove it.

"Oh, this is so not good. Ouch! Dammit!"

A sudden pounding noise reached her ears. Now what? Andrea wanted to scream. The knocking continued to grow more insistent. Whoever it was seemed pretty determined to get inside.

Good luck, pal! It wasn't like she was able to do anything to help the person get in! Seeing as how she was stuck under the weight of some pretty pissed off magic and all. FML.

Friggin' superstitious old Romani biddy! A flash of power zapped her right in the ass and Andrea screamed in pain. Yikes! Apologies, auntie, she quickly bit off a small prayer to honor her deceased family member. She knew better than to piss off the dead.

"Look, you're better off staying out there, dude," she yelled over the howling wind and the eerie scream-like sounds coming from the ancient tome.

Oh, Aunt Renalda, what were you into? Puri daj must be nuts sending me here! She wondered just what her grandmother or Puri daj, better known as Madame Magdelena Kristos, matriarch of the Kristos Clan and one of the most formidable Romani Casters in the world, was doing when she'd told her granddaughter to go up to this godforsaken place.

So, what if she'd been avoiding all family business the past five years while she backpacked her way across the globe? She was still a Kristos, blast it all!

The nomadic lifestyle was in her blood for Pete's sake. She wasn't going to apologize for something that was basically her birthright as a Romani!

Of course, just lately she'd been feeling a pull to return to the country of her birth. Hell, she'd left right in the middle of a star-studded party weekend on Mykos to come back to this frozen dump of a state. And for what? That's exactly what she'd like to know!

When she'd finally landed, she was shocked to be greeted by her illusive grandmother. Andrea should have known then, it was bad news. She hadn't exactly been close to Aunt Renalda, but she remembered the old woman who wore her hair in a severe bun and smelled faintly like the spices she used to cook her famous spanakopita.

The woman hand rolled her own phyllo dough for the delicious spinach pie Andrea couldn't get enough of during family gatherings. It had hurt to learn of her passing. Especially when the news came from the iron-willed woman who was her grandmother.

Her Puri daj's eyes hadn't teared up or grown misty when she'd told Andrea. Her stylish hair remained untouched, make-up perfect, and her posture as unyielding as ever. Andrea supposed the matriarch needed to be tough as nails. Especially when faced with the death of a sister, no matter how estranged they were. The weirdest thing was that Aunt Renalda, for some unknown reason, had left all of her worldly belongings to Andrea.

The bank account sum wasn't a fortune by any means, but there were more zeroes than Andrea had imagined. Not only did she leave her all of her money, but her house and possessions as well. WTF?

Now, she knew why her great-aunt had done so. The woman f*****g hated her! Her sweet great-aunt and loving grandmother obviously wanted her dead or maimed. Vengeance for her leaving them maybe. She didn't know and was unlikely to find out in her position.

Andrea hadn't practiced casting or conjuring in years and now she was faced with magic the likes of which she'd never experienced. Her grandmother's parting words filled her mind, "Remember who you are, little Andrea. Remember what training you've had, granddaughter. Do not falter, the time for you to use it is near. It seems your destiny is calling."

Her training consisted of no more than a few months with some pretty nutty cousins abroad. Andrea groaned, she should have been a better student.

When she was younger, she'd been impatient to see the world, to get away from her strict Romani upbringing. The clan was grossly old-fashioned, even for having a woman lead them. She'd been severely limited in what she was allowed to do and whom she was allowed to do it with.

Living in her maternal grandmother's clan had its advantages though. When she was fourteen her father had drawn up a marriage contract between her and a boy from his old clan, but Puri daj had forbidden it.

She was grateful for her grandmother's interference, but her father had been furious. Always cursing her when she was near to the point where she hated being home. Her mother had died when she was little, and though her parents were married in the eyes of her people, they'd never legally tied the knot. Therefore, Andrea remained a Kristos, ignoring her father's name as she ignored his wishes.

Her father, Hugo Constantine, was a small man. Thin and angry, he'd soon taken to slapping her around whenever she'd displeased him. The clan knew, but for some reason they didn't interfere. She even went to Puri daj one day after school in the tenth grade. She'd been late getting dinner on the table and her father had attacked her with his belt. She'd had bruises on her back and legs. It was all she could to get to the six blocks to her grandmother's house.

It had taken all her courage to tell her grandmother about the abuse, but the woman had only dressed her wounds, given her some tea, and then sent her back home. To him. Andrea left the next day before dawn, her father's snores echoed from his prone position on the couch.

She pretended it didn't bother her, but the truth was it had hurt. She stayed out late that night, afraid to go home. Finally, a cousin had found her in the local park and brought her to her grandmother's house. There she told Andrea the news. Her cruel and bitter sire had drunk himself to death that very afternoon.

Andrea was finally free. Sure, she had to deal with overbearing uncles and aunts, and a whole swarm of cousins. She'd done that for most of her life anyway. Besides, it was better without Hugo Constantine's presence.

She'd often questioned whether his timely death might have been engineered by her puri daj, but she'd never had the guts to ask. Afraid of the answer, she supposed.

When she was old enough, she made plans to go abroad. She'd only been allowed to leave home under the pretense she'd be studying with some cousins. It sure beat sticking around and waiting to be married off!

After spending one year in the small mountain village that wasn't on any map she'd ever seen, somewhere in the wilds of Albania, Andrea took off like a thief in the night. And she hadn't looked back.

A fact that was now biting her in the ass. Literally. She gasped at the pain shooting up her backside and her spine. Her eyes rolled towards the back of her head as the book's pages slowed their turning only to zap at her again. White hot agony, unlike anything she'd ever experienced, coursed through her body.

"f**k!" She yelled as her back bowed underneath the weight of the magic. Thunder sounded outside, lightning struck, and a strong wind rattled the few remaining window panes. The knocking from outside grew louder.

"Ugh, go away!"

Andrea closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to recall something, anything, that would help her battle the Dark magic coming from the book. She struggled to move out of the salt circle, to no avail. She should have been looking down!

There was no way out now. Not without someone from the outside breaking the circle. It had probably been drawn and cast by Aunt Renalda to hold the magic that she'd inadvertently released. She'd knocked the book off its pedestal and out of the binding pentagram.

Now she was trapped, having replaced the book with herself. s**t. This was so not good.

As if things couldn't get worse, Andrea heard what sounded like the front door breaking down. What the hell? The noise was soon followed by heavy footsteps thudding their way towards her.

Oh, s**t! If a normal were to walk in on her, she'd been in all kinds of trouble. Not to mention, he or she could die.

"Hey, back off! Seriously, don't come in here!"

A deep voice cut through the howling wind sending shivers down her spine. He spoke two words and that was enough to send Andrea's heart thudding in her chest.

"Too late."